George called me 'cause he reckons that Australia might come under attack from terrorists! He called me! Well, ok so he didn't exactly call me, so much as the Government. And he didn't exactly call, so much as write. And I guess it wasn't actually George who wrote, so much as a member of his staff. But still, it was pretty cool!

So anyway, Daryl Williams reckons that the terrorists would target our power stations and stuff, but I reckon he's wrong. If those terrorists know anything about Australians, they'll hit us right where it hurts: by striking all the things that Aussies are proud of. First off, they'd probably knock off Ian Thorpe. I reckon people in the foreign countries are probably heaps jealous that we're really good at sport. That's why they hate us: 'cause normal countries like Australia, America and China kick foreign country's arses at sport. Then they'd blow up the Big Pineapple and maybe even the Big Macadamia Nut (but probably only cause it's near by - it's not really as much funl), 'cause then there'd be nothing interesting left in Queensland. Then they'd kill Kylie. Then Holly Valance, just in case. In fact, they'd probably go and blow up the whole of Ramsey Street, 'cause that'd stop all the English back-packers coming to Melbourne and ruin its tourism industry. Then they'd sink both the Spirit of Tasmania boats so that no one could get off that wretched island and they'd all go mad with boredom.

But if they really want to hurt Australia, they'll hurt me. I don't wanna boast or anything, but I don't reckon this country could function without me. Probably even some other countries couldn't, either. I mean, imagine if I was knocked off, then Australia would be run by John Anderson. How much would that suck? People would be all like, farming and stuff. He'd probably grow corn in Parliament House or something. The National Press Club Luncheons would be catered by the Country Women's Association, which is ok 'cause everyone likes a good scone now and then, but not all the time. And that's what country people do: They eat scones all the time. I'm not even sure if they eat Vegemite! Like, imagine if no one had roses in their cheeks? 'Cause Janette reckons that's what happens when you don't eat your Vegemite. Maybe they could put Vegemite on their scones.

But who knows what terrorists are capable of? They could probably wipe out our Vegemite plants or trees, or whatever! And then the terrorists would have definitely won.

The ALP had some lame-o conference and now they think they're top shit. As if. I have to sit through stupid conferences all the time, It's part of my job, or something, and no one ever listens at those things. I always just sit there and write funny things on the table like "Crean has boobies!" with my white-out pen. Sometimes we even play Chinese Whispers. Once we played it in Parliament, and I started one which was, "John Anderson is a nong-face and he smells and is stupid and his phone doesn't work 'cause he lives in the country!" And it went all the way around, and then got to John, but he must've got it wrong 'cause he goes, "John Howard is a bong-face and you can tell he's stupid 'cause he lives in a smelly country!" And all the losers from Labor did that stupid "Here, here!" thing they do, so I yelled, "Yeah? Well so's ya mum!" And then the speaker banged that hammer thing and told us off.

Anyway, so the ALP are obviously not top-shit, they're like, bottom-shit. And Crean has boobies.

The chicks from Labor were also going on about all this gender quota stuff. If women want to get into politics, can't they just do it themselves? I mean, they go on and on about this "Glass Ceiling", but I've never seen one. Well, there is a skylight at Parliament House, but once Robert Hill, Rod Kemp and I hit out cricket ball up there, so I climbed up to get it, but the Parliament House people yelled at me. And I was like, "Hey, you can't yell at me, I'm the Prime Minister!" But they reckoned they could yell at me 'cause apparently I don't actually own Parliament House. They confiscated my Kanga Cricket Bat, too.

So yeah, it's just as hard for us guys to get though that skylight as it is for the chicks. Plus, I don't reckon I've ever even seen one of the women hit a cricket ball on the roof at Parliament House, anyway, so I don't know why they're complaining. Amanda Vanstone kicked her footy up there once when we were playing Markings-up, but I think the Parliament House people are afraid of her, so they let her climb up.